


And

by TheVagabondGod



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Dissociation, F/F, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Past Abuse, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondGod/pseuds/TheVagabondGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps being immortal isn't feasible, it's just a never ending day, fractured by small rests.<br/>Or even just continuing unsureness, because nothing can prove existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

'I thought I was meant to be the messed up one.'  
The voice is surprising, and Ryan starts, tilting his head back to look at Ray, who is perched on the couch arm while Ryan himself sits on the floor.  
It was obviously Ray who spoke.  
Ryan notes there's blood on his jeans, he isn't entirely sure why it's there.  
'You don't remember it,' notes Ray.  
Ryan can remember wind. A field, wind just brushing across the tips of the grass, fresh air.  
Picture perfect.  
Just.  
Hours.  
Hours of the wind, blowing through that same field.  
The clouds slowly moving overhead.  
Is Ray still talking? It's almost as if his head is encased, everything feels far away, and Ryan doubts that any of this is real.  
He's forgetting to do something,  
He's unsure if it's important.  
Maybe nothing is important.

 

Falling isn't a peaceful experience, the force of the fall meaning his hair is whipping around.  
He doesn't quite feel like he's caught up with himself.  
He's sure the wind should be screaming in his ears, but it isn't.  
Maybe he isn't falling.  
But there is is.  
Ryan's above himself, and out of himself all at once.  
His body is like a broken doll on the ground.  
And all at once, he's sure he deliberately jumped.

 

He's useless to the crew. It's a rare moment of peace for Ryan.  
He isn't out doing any jobs.  
For once, Ryan is somewhat sure that he is here.  
But he's not here increasingly often.  
Either, watching himself from an outside view, or simply vacant.  
It makes him useless to the crew, whose to say he'll be able to keep doing his job?  
He never did find out what Ray wanted to say, unable to admit what had happened.  
He's already incredibly reluctant to admit it to himself, and he's had the majority of his life to do so.  
The thought that it's getting worse should be scary.  
But at least none of the crew have noticed.  
'Hey buddy,' Geoff is joining him on the balcony.  
Geoff is approaching him, Geoff is leaning against the small wall that edges the balcony, preventing them from falling.  
'We're all a little confused,' Geoff starts, and Ryan isn't entirely sure what the gent is referring to, but he listens anyway.  
'You've jumped off the roof three times now without any explanation,' continues Geoff, 'And we're all a little worried about you, how you keep killing yourself.'  
Ryan doesn't know how to respond, he's unsure if this topic has come up before, unsure if he's said anything about it at all, it's clear he hasn't explained how he dissociates.  
Geoff seems to realize that Ryan isn't about to talk, 'I know we're immortal, but it is still concerning to see you kill yourself Ryan, we care about you.'  
'It's nothing,' Ryan speaks, and he realizes, just how little emotion his voice carries, and he's sure, that he's said this before.


	2. Chapter 2

His mind speaks to him. No. He speaks to himself.  
All the little parts of Ryan, they have to communicate.  
One part of Ryan is sure everything is fine, everyone has to do this right, of course it's fine.  
No one can act, or move, if all their parts don't speak.  
'You don't need to tell them,' he holds a hand over one eye, the wall is still, but it grows and shrinks without moving before him.  
He raises the other hand to cover his other eye, 'They have to do this, too,' he replies to himself, 'How else could they function?'  
Ryan peeks out between two fingers, he watches the wall, unsure how something can grow and shrink without moving.  
'They'll think you're stupid,' he tells himself, 'For thinking you're special, for thinking you're different.'  
Wasn't the wall a pale blue before? Or maybe he isn't looking at yellow, maybe this is what blue looks like and he's gotten it confused.  
'They couldn't possibly believe that you really think you're alone in this.'  
Alone. Perhaps he is enclosed within the walls, the small warm space. Shouldn't it be comforting?

 

His job is easy.  
He looks tough.  
He keeps crowds under his command, so his crew can do their jobs.  
Fierce eyes glaring through the eyes of a skull mask.  
All he has to do is look tough, be present.  
Ryan can't help but wonder if he ever does his job without knowing.  
'Oi!' Jeremy's voice interrupts his thoughts, was he thinking at all?  
He trails after Jeremy, gun still raised, held firmly in both hands, they leave the scene, Ryan trusts that the job is complete.  
The safe house doesn't feel like home.  
The walls twist away from his touch, and he's sure they talk among themselves when he isn't looking.  
'Ryan? Is something wrong?' Ray's voice, is it Ray's voice.  
Looking at Ray as he is, Ryan can't say for sure that Ray is there, maybe Ray was replaced.  
He's looking an impostor, the beanie that fake Ray wears seems to twist, and move, trembling like a fine shiver of wind constantly blows through it.  
'Everything's fine,' he tells the fake Ray, because perhaps he isn't supposed to know that this Ray isn't real.  
The voice that leaks from his lips, those were the words he selected, but was that his voice?  
'Yes,' he soothes himself in his mind, and replies to himself also, 'Of course it was.'  
'You need to leave the room,' he answers himself.  
'Can't trust a fake.'  
Ray's entire form seems to sway as Ryan leaves the room.  
Passing someone in the hall, Ryan almost hesitates, a stranger in the house?  
What happened to the mirror in the hall? Perhaps they removed it, did the stranger he passed steal it?  
Why would someone steal a mirror?  
Is he bleeding?  
He needs to check himself for wounds.  
His body feels different, perhaps like it isn't his own.  
Ryan removes his clothes, what room is he in again?  
Staring down at his sock covered feet, Ryan feels like they look different, what did they use to look like? Do others see the change.  
'Whoa!' a voice interrupts his thoughts, are his thoughts always interrupted? He isn't sure.  
Gavin. The locked safe.  
Gavin never repeats anything.  
He can speak to Gavin, can't he?  
'What are you doing stripping down in the meeting room, Rye-bread?' asks the Brit.  
Meeting room?  
It takes Ryan a moment, to hunt back through his thoughts, collect the right one, find the right words, make sure they mean what he wants.  
'I wasn't sure if I got injured or not,' confesses Ryan, it's about as much as he can confess.  
'You aren't different, you aren't special,' his mind whispers to him, and he whispers back, 'You aren't the only one.'  
'But I'm so alone,' he finishes.  
Gavin seems confused, 'Well, are you hurting anywhere?'  
As if it's so obvious, can't be injured without the pain. Can't leave your body, can't be outside of it all.  
Always so firmly around.  
Ryan doesn't know how to respond.  
It seems as if Gavin decides to go with it, stop questioning, he moves closer, Ryan is only in his boxers and socks.  
The Brit holds up one of Ryan's arms at a time, inspecting the skin for injuries, his gaze remains blank, ignoring the faded scars, his back gets the same treatment, his sides, his chest, his legs.  
'No injuries,' reports Gavin, as Ryan watches from outside of himself.  
Watches as he nods in response to Gavin, watches as he jokes with Gavin, apologizes for his weirdness and dresses.  
'That isn't me,' he wants to say, but he's been replaced with fake Ryan.  
Is this how Ray feels? The real Ray? Is the real Ray watching fake Ray right now?  
He watches himself leave the room with Gavin.

 

The fields are always windy.  
The breeze ever present.  
He's sure that one day it'll all catch fire and burn away.  
The blaze will be brilliant and dull at the same time.  
But it doesn't matter.  
Nothings real and Ryan is somewhat sure of that.  
He remembers harsh bruises.  
A leaf idly swirls by, that might be new.  
Ryan's never noted the trees that edge his field to lose their leaves.  
The sun is almost dull, a faded wash out of a colour.  
He remembers the way blood looks when it soaks deep into the carpet.  
Did anything besides the grass ever live in this field? The grass is tall.  
If he had a body, if he was real, he would wade through the grass until the grass was all around him, and he would swim into the depths.  
Perhaps a brilliant lick of fire would discover him, and he would be washed out with the grass.  
Cracked open skulls aren't always a Halloween decoration, his memories whisper to him about torn open rib cages.  
If anything was real, if Ryan had a body, he would gag.  
Everything is fine and nothing happens.  
Nothing ever happens.  
If he had hair, on a body that was real, what would the wind feel like going through it?  
He wants to sleep far away from it all.

 

His broken doll body always seems to shatter.  
Regardless of how much he tries, the wind doesn't take his fake body up, his fake body falls, with his mind drifting behind.  
His body breaks on the ground far below and through the fog of sound around his mind, there are screams, but it's all distant, and none of it is real so it doesn't matter.  
Geoff always cradles Ryan's body close, waits for bones to crack back into place, and then Ryan always watches as fake Ryan awakes, as fake Ryan laughs it off, explains he doesn't know what he was thinking.  
'Geoff,' Ryan wants to say, 'You're talking to the fake,' but he can't, he's outside looking in.  
This has never happened has it? He's sure if it. He's always been real up until now.  
'I don't understand you, bud,' Geoff sighs, claps fake Ryan on the shoulder.  
It's fine to not be real.  
Of course it's fine.

 

'Ryan, you need to tell us what's going on,' Ray tells him, Jeremy is silent at the other males side.  
Ray continues, 'We can't keep literally scrapping you off the pavement.'  
Scrapping him off the pavement? When have they ever done that?  
Maybe his balance has been bad.  
Ryan isn't sure why it would be, his balance is good right now, he sits upright without problem.  
Sometimes bones get stuck, and they stay out of place.  
'You can't keep killing yourself,' insists Ray.  
Jeremy nods in agreement, Ryan can't read his eyes. Jeremy has to be fake.  
Jeremy isn't real.  
No one is there but Ray and Ryan.  
He killed himself? Ryan is sure he wouldn't do that.  
His life isn't that bad. And you can't kill yourself when you're immortal.  
And if he had killed himself, how are they talking? Ryan almost brings up this point, but doesn't, he's unsure why he shouldn't.  
Where is the field? He feels away from home.

 

There's nothing louder than a gun, Ryan is sure of it.  
All he hears is guns.  
He wonders why so many people are dead around him.  
He can feel his hands, he isn't sure what he's doing.  
He's moving, he's sure of it, a voice resounds about the room, but it isn't his.  
Ryan's pretty sure he doesn't have a voice.  
Did he shove marshmallows into his ears?  
Maybe.  
He isn't sure why he would do that.  
But everything is so vague, and he's convinced chunks of time are missing, is time real?  
Do events really flow from one to another or is every event just a chaotic mess?  
The voice continues to be about, and he continues to be sure it isn't his.  
You can't own a voice when you don't have a voice, but how sure is he that he doesn't have a voice?  
He tries to speak, but that other voice is still speaking over him.  
Not that it matters anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

He wants to tell them he's not okay.  
He's been aware he's had something wrong for a long time.  
Empty spaces in his mind, hazy memories of pain, times where all he saw was the field, the idea that something wasn't right.  
There's no way to know if that's all, no way to know what those empty spaces in his memories hold.  
Ryan's crew around him, secure in their thoughts that maybe even if the Vagabond is a killer, a murderer who takes delight in killing, he's still human, and still sane.  
He can't doubt his humanity.  
Nothing inhuman would be so ill.  
He's aware of the fact he's injured, but not in the normal sense.  
The bullet wound is clearly present in his thigh.  
But he can't feel it, he keeps trying to tell himself that it is his body, he can't feel connected to it in any case.  
The crew hadn't thought anything of it when Ryan had taken the shot.  
They hadn't hesitated, pressing forward with the heist.  
The disconnect between Ryan and his body is too vast, he's not sure he could speak even if he were sure he wanted to.  
How could he say it?

 

Ryan begins keeping a journal.  
He thinks he's writing in it everyday, but when he flicks back through it, he sees gaps, and he see entries he doesn't remember writing.  
Some of them, when he focuses, he can almost call the memory to mind.  
Like it's there, but just out of his grasp.  
None of the crew comment on the journal.  
He's unsure if they've noticed.  
Some days his handwriting is small and neat, little ants marching across the paper.  
Other days, his handwriting seems like it wants to leap off the page, large and messy, hard to read.  
Time is both less and more solid, he's more aware of all the thoughts he's lost.  
But able to track things a tad easier.  
The paper feels rough under his skin, the feel is comforting.  
If his journal is correct, it's been months since he jumped off a building last.  
He can't decide if that's something he would write down even if it did happen.  
He's unsure it's important.  
There's a knock at the door, and Geoff enters, Jack trailing after.  
They look uncertain of themselves.  
Jack is the one who notices the journal, she doesn't comment.  
'Hey guys, what's up,' Ryan turns on his chair to face them, unable to resist lightly trailing his fingers down the spine of the journal.  
Geoff clears his throat, 'you told us to come talk to you.'  
Confusion must be clear on Ryan's face, Jack takes her phone out of her pocket, swipes the screen a few times and reveals it to Ryan.  
He had indeed messaged Jack, the message simply reading, 'I need to confess something, bring Geoff, please.'  
His breath feels caught in his throat. What if they declare him useless to the crew? Make him leave?  
What use could someone as broken as him be?  
He hated saying he was broken, but he obviously was broken.  
Ryan picks up his journal in both hands, offers it up to Jack wordlessly.  
'You want us to read this?' she asks, accepting it, she's careful with it, almost cradling it.  
'Yes,' did Ryan say that? He isn't sure. He probably did, this is his body, he is here, he is real, this is the real Jack, the real Geoff.  
Geoff hasn't spoken a word since entering the room, but he takes a seat on the small couch next to Jack.  
On the first page they observe the small tiny ants marching across the paper, on the second they watch beetles scrawl across the page.  
It's clear Jack is reading faster than Geoff is, she pauses at the end of each page, waits for Geoff to catch up so she can turn the page.  
'I had no idea,' she says, her gaze is still cast downwards on the journal, 'Ray, Gavin and Jeremy seemed sure something was wrong, but Gavin couldn't bring himself to say anything, you know how he is, doesn't like to talk about others behind their backs.'  
Geoff draws in a deep breath, he looks like he wants a drink, and he probably does, Geoff prefers to handle things drunk.  
'I don't know how we can help you,' the crew leader admits, he's moved so his head rests in his hands.  
This stuns Ryan, he hadn't considered the possibility that they would be willing to help him, he had assumed that they would make him leave.  
Jack stands, moving over to rest a hand on Ryan's shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly, 'You're not broken Ryan, you can't help being ill.'  
It's clear the thought that Ryan might think he's broken obviously hadn't occurred to Geoff, but now the mustached man stands up, comes over to hold one of Ryan's hands between both of his own, 'I don't know how we can help you, but we'll find ways,' he assured, 'You aren't useless, and even if you were, you're family, you're my family, we'd never abandon you.'  
Jack at least seems pleased, Ryan's well accustomed to the disproving looks she gives any of them when they misbehave.  
He knows he wont instantly be better, but Ryan's heart feels better, lighter, lighter than it's felt in a long time.  
For once, he really isn't alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Memories of the past will be in italic

_She probably didn't mean to do it. Ryan reasoned to himself._  
_It wasn't a big deal anyway._  
_Amy was just a small woman, he was immortal, large, he shouldn't be so worried about getting punched by someone as small as her._  
_His gaze was bleak as he gazed out the window._  
_He felt cold, sort of detached._  
_People like Ryan didn't get abused, they just deserved every hurt that came their way._  
  
  
  
Jack seemed nervous.  
But then, ever since Ryan had her and Geoff read his journal, she always seemed nervous.  
At least as far as Ryan knew.  
He was fully aware he had time missing.  
Jack kept recounting random events to him, she had started working on his journal with him, filling in any gaps he might have.  
Ryan had always had insomnia, always found it difficult to sleep.  
But now that he was getting slightly better at holding onto memories, he was able to remember the bad things too, and at night, whenever he slept, his every dream became a nightmare he couldn't escape.  
Currently, in her nervous state, Jack was bustling around the kitchen, hurriedly preparing something.  
Earlier that day she had decided that they'd all have dinner together, Ray had tried to excuse his way out of it, but Jack wasn't allowing anyone to skip this dinner.  
As Ryan sat on his chair - backwards so he could rest his chin on the back of the chair - he felt slightly out of his body, he was was watching Jack cooked, but not quite from his own eyes.  
He'd say it was discerning, but not only was he disconnected from his body, he was also disconnected from his emotions.  
'Whoa, Ryan.exe has stopped working,' the voice sounded distant, but he managed to identify it as Ray.  
Jack turned her attention from the stove to Ryan and Ray, Ryan tried to blink, to sit up, saw himself slowly blink.  
Concern flitted across her face, 'Ryan?' she spoke, moving over to see him better.  
'I touched his shoulder and spoke to him,' explained Ray, 'He just didn't respond at all.'  
It would be okay, thought Ryan to himself, feeling himself drift off.  
  
  
  
The whole crew knows, now.  
After Ray trying to speak to him, after it being so apparently obvious.  
Gavin speaks up, too.  
About his own problems, how when he's alone, he feels disconnected from everything.  
This encourages Ray to speak up, about his depression, his anxiety.  
Geoff talks about his alcohol, and how sometimes he feels scared, because sometimes he's afraid of being sober.  
Currently Ryan sat outside, he'd driven out to a nearby park.  
The drive there was distant in his mind.  
In this moment, he feels utterly content, he's aware he isn't entirely okay, he has problems, they all do.  
Nothing is entirely okay, but at the same time, it ultimately doesn't matter.  
He's looking at the clouds, and they look like they would be soft.  
Ryan can imagine holding a cloud between two hands, the way it wouldn't have it's own weight, it would gently drift between his fingers.  
He imagines how it must feel, to not really be there at all.  
He likes this feeling.  
Content.  
Everything is so slow for now, he doesn't want it to hurry up at all.  
Quite the opposite, he'd love for it to slow down further.  
Ryan is thinking, but the thoughts aren't necessary, he's okay just to exist in this moment.  
He's loosely existing, on the boarder, neither here, nor there.  
He's not sure he could put this in words if he wanted to.  
Perhaps he won't even remember this, this absolute contentment, the feeling of being okay with everything.  
Being okay with the fact he will hurt, the fact he will feel distant, and he will feel like he's not real at all.  
Mostly, he's okay with the idea that everything is utterly pointless in the end.  
The wind is calm, and he can watch the clouds slowly crawling across the sky.  
His t-shirt feels soft against his skin.  
He isn't the Vagabond right now.  
Just Ryan.  
  
  
  
 _Glass should hurt._  
 _Ryan's aware of that, dully, in the back of his mind, he's aware this should hurt._  
 _Perhaps he should even be upset._  
 _She'd smashed a mirror over him, a large mirror._  
 _One of the full length mirrors._  
 _He can recall her standing before that mirror many times, checking her appearance, asking Ryan if anything she wore made her look fat._  
 _The answer was always no of course._  
 _She was beautiful no matter what._  
 _Or so he told himself that._  
 _She couldn't stand in front of the mirror anymore, he could feel a shard of it sticking out of his forehead, just above his eyebrow._  
 _Or, rather he knew it was there, he felt remarkably distant from the situation._  
 _Her voice was frantic, a soft murmur in the background as she rattled information into the phone._  
 _Perhaps he would bleed out, and die._  
 _Only for the wounds to still be there, because a wound can't heal with the glass sticking out like it is._  
 _Dully, Ryan reaches up, he lightly tugs a shard of glass free of his wrist, wondering if it'll scar._  
 _People make assumptions._  
 _Perhaps they'll assume he tried to kill himself._  
 _He didn't, not this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this a few days ago, and decided to finish the chapter now, simply to capture the contentment I myself feel


	5. Chapter 5

_His parents weren't immortal._  
_He was aware that they would eventually die._  
_Even if he wasn't immortal, he'd outlive them anyway._  
_Or perhaps he wouldn't._  
_Ryan was certain that no other kid his age, got back up after having their head bashed into the solid ground so many times._  
_His head still rang with the headache, he sat perched next to the blood._  
_It was fine._  
  
  
  
He was shaking lightly.  
Ryan had just woken from a nightmare, he hated how he couldn't stop himself from shaking.  
He stretches as he leaves his bed, deeming it useless to try continuing to sleep.  
It's late into the night, and he finds no one is up, everyone in their rooms, no doubt in their beds asleep.  
A part of him wants to turn music on, put it up real loud, in the hopes it'll make him feel more connected to everything around him.  
Because right now? The silence is disconcerting. Ryan's not entirely convinced that he is here, that he's real.  
He struggles not to believe that he's back in bed, still fighting the nightmare.  
Glancing over his shoulder, he notes his bedroom light is still on.  
He doesn't recall turning the light on, but he must have.  
Ryan comes to a halt, a frown creasing his face as he gazes down at the couch.  
Ray is sound asleep there, DS in hand.  
Quietly Ryan removes the DS from the younger males hand, closing it and sitting it on the table before wandering off to find a blanket.  
By time he comes back, with a woolen blanket over one arm, Ray's eyes are fluttering open as the youth gazes around blearily.  
With a shrug, Ryan ditches the blanket and moves to help Ray stand, guiding the shorter male to his bedroom.  
It's as Ryan is leaving Ray's room that a voice stops him.  
'Wait,' croaks Ray from where he's bundled up, still looking sleepy.  
Ryan turns, eyebrow raised as he regards the other with a curious stare.  
Quietly Ray shuffles over on his bed, so he's further from the middle and closer to the far away edge, he indicates to his bed with a simple hand gesture, 'Stay with me?' he whispers.  
For several moments Ryan lingers by the door, but then Ray makes that gesture again, so Ryan forces his legs to move, slips under the blankets next to Ray, allows the other male to curl against his side.  
He's sort of relieved at the feel of Ray's heartbeat against his side, it's grounding.  
He has to be real to feel all of this.  
  
  
  
Ryan is surprised to wake up.  
He doesn't recall falling asleep, certainly hadn't expected to.  
Ray is still curled up against his side, head on Ryan's shoulder.  
Gazing down at the other male, Ryan thinks to himself that his shoulder can't be a very comfortable pillow, and yet, Ray makes it look comfortable.  
There's a knock at the door, then it squeaks open and Jack's peering in, she blinks in surprise at the sight of the two of them, immediately noting that Ray is sound asleep.  
'I was just looking for you,' whispers Jack to Ryan, mindful of the sleeping male, 'Are you alright?'  
Ryan nods in confirmation, indicating that he doesn't want to move in case he wakes Ray.  
'I'll put aside some breakfast for you both,' whispers Jack before leaving the room, doing her best to close the door quietly behind her.  
The fact Jack is making breakfast allows Ryan to assume that it's morning now, but the curtains on the single window in the room don't allow any light to come in.  
Ryan shuffles slightly to get more comfortable, gazing silently up at the roof while he waits for Ray to wake up.  
He doesn't have to wait long, soon Ray is blinking himself awake, gaze flickering up to Ryan before he pulls away and sits up to stretch.  
Content to watch for a moment, Ryan doesn't speak at first, so it's Ray who speaks, 'Good morning,' he greets, voice hoarse.  
Ray climbs out of the bed and moves over to the window to peer out.  
'Good morning,' Ryan returns, noting he feels a little bit nervous, 'Jack said she'd put aside some breakfast for us both.'  
A smile lights of Ray's face at this thought, Ryan clambers out of the bed while Ray changes into a fresh pair of jeans, having slept in the previous days jeans.  
No one comments when Ray and Ryan enter the room together, Ryan presumes Jack already told them where she found Ryan.  
He's kind of curious what they think of it, but doesn't want to ask. He isn't even sure what he himself thinks of it, or what he should be thinking.  
Already, Ryan is starting to feel a little distant.  
But at least he had made it through the rest of the night without nightmares.  
Ray serves up two plates, one for himself, one for Ryan, he ignores the way Gavin and Michael watch him do so.  
It's Ryan that retrieves a diet cola for himself, and a Redbull for Ray, they settle at the table side by side.  
'Sleep well?' Jack asks the pair of them from the head of the table.  
Ray merely grunts in response, while Ryan actively nods.  
'We were thinking of going to the park later,' explains Jack, 'you're both welcome to come along.'  
'Sure,' agrees Ray while Ryan nods along, content to go out with the rest of the crew.  
Gavin is bouncing in place on his chair, 'When we get back, we can play some cheeky minecraft.'  
Michael can't help but snort, 'Cheeky minecraft? What the hells that supposed to mean?' he chortles, nudging the Brits side as he does so.  
'We can work on our houses, my boi,' insists Gavin, 'It'll be lovely.'  
Jeremy wanders into the room, yawning loudly as he collects breakfast from the kitchen before joining them at the table.  
He blinks blearily at them all and promptly steals Gavin's glass of orange juice, to which the latter squawks loudly about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of trying to aim for longer chapters.  
> But sometimes the chapter doesn't allow for it.


	6. Chapter 6

'So, you and Ray?' it was Jack who mentioned it first, deliberately going out of her way to get Ryan alone, unwilling to put him on the spot in front of others.   
Ryan had hesitated in response, unsure of how to answer, in truth, he wasn't sure what was going on.   
It wasn't as if he and Ray had talked about it.   
But over the past few weeks since that night Ryan slept in Ray's bed, they had certainly grown closer.   
Jack seemed to notice his hesitation, and the creases in her face softened, 'You haven't talked to him about it?'  
'I don't think so,' confesses Ryan, he admittedly felt unsure most of the time, unsure he was remembering everything.   
Ray had started writing down things in Ryan's journal, and it had been useful, Ray managed to fill in a few holes no one else could.   
'You should bring it up,' advises Jack, 'I'd hate for either of you to get hurt.'   
They head back into the living area where most of the crew is perched, Gavin is hanging off the couch boredly, waving his arms about.   
The Brit perks up when he sees Jack and Ryan enter the room.   
Ryan resists the urge to walk straight back out of the room.   
'It's my turn to plan the next heist,' Gavin chirps cheerfully, still waving his arms about.   
'Sounds . . . ' Ryan hesitates, sitting down but being careful to avoid Gavin's arms, 'Like we should prepare our funerals.' he finishes finally.   
Gavin squawks as if he's offended.   
Ray snorts and sits next to Ryan, DS in hand as he lightly leans against the other males arm.   
Immediately Jack raises an eyebrow at Ryan, seemingly trying to remind him of the conversation they had minutes before.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _In a way, it was relieving to stare down at her grave._  
 _The flowers on it were still fresh, her sister visited nearly everyday, always bringing more flowers._  
 _Ryan himself wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing._  
 _Her sister seemed to expect something off him at least._  
 _They had meals together every so often, sat for long minutes of silence, each unsure of what to say._  
 _Everything felt quiet without her._  
 _He'd grown so accustomed to the constant noise, yelling, screaming._  
 _Why did he feel so tired?_  
  
  
  
  
  


'So, what are we?' asks Ryan, Ray is curled up in his arms.  
Ray stared up at Ryan blankly for a few moments, apparently not comprehending what the other had asked, then it seemed to click, and the male blinked, 'What are we? Are we seriously having this talk?'  
At that moment, Ryan wanted to cringe away, but he managed not to, 'Uh, yes?'  
Immediately Ray snorted, 'I think it's safe to say we're a thing.'  
'A thing? Like dating?'  
Ray eyed Ryan for a moment, as if trying to figure what he thought of it, 'Sure.'  
'We should go on a proper date then,' Ryan buries his face into Ray's hair.  
In response, Ray snorts, 'Dates are for normal people.'  
'Maybe I want to be normal.'  
'Normal's boring,' Ray's starting to sound sleepy now, and Ryan can't really blame him, they had both woken up early, and now they're well into the night.  
Ryan considers for several moments, 'I miss normal,' is what he finally says, ignoring how Ray squints at him.  
Soon after Ray goes to sleep, Ryan waits a good while before carefully extracting himself from the bed, quietly walking out into the living area.  
His journal sits on the kitchen counter, he picks it up and flicks through it, noting a few entries he doesn't recall writing, or things Ray has written in that he doesn't remember.  
Most of all, he remembers that field.  
He wanders out onto the balcony, leaving the journal on the kitchen counter.  
The air outside is cold, he almost wants to count the stars, they're so bright.  
He rests his hands on the rail that prevents him from falling, tilts his head back and gazes up at the sky.  
Ryan feels empty.  
Closing his eyes for a moment, he can feel the wind in his hair.  
He opens his eyes again, and just sighs, before calmly pulling himself up onto the rail, and allowing himself to fall.  
Falling should be peaceful, but the wind whips around in his ears. So he forgets.


	7. Chapter 7

_He could remember falling down the stairs._  
_At least he thought he fell._  
_He must have fallen, why would anyone push him down the stairs?_  
_Ryan shook the thought off, unsure of why he was thinking of such things._  
_But yet, the memory of staying in hospital afterwards had sunk into his mind and refused to leave._  
  
  
  
  
  
When he wakes up, half the crew sits around him.  
Geoff is sitting with his elbows on his knees, fingers touching at the tips in front of his face.  
Michael appears to have dozed off in his seat, Lindsay leaning against his side.  
Watching them for a few moments, Ryan wonders when that happened, from how comfortable the pair seem, he can assume they're dating.  
'You jumped off the balcony again,' Geoff informs him, unsure if Ryan is aware of what he had done.  
He doesn't remember doing that.  
The last thing Ryan seems to remember is Ray calling normal boring, his own response of missing normal.  
Ryan questions now if he had ever been normal.  
'I'm sorry,' is what he finally says.  
Surprise flashed through Geoff's eyes, 'What for?'  
'Being me, I guess,' Ryan shrugs, 'I can't be painting too good of an image for the crew.'  
Geoff doesn't respond to this, seeming stumped.  
The male in the bed takes this moment to observe who is in the room.  
Geoff, Lindsay and Michael of course.  
Ray is entirely absent.  
Jeremy and Gavin are slumped against each other in the corner, concern creases Jeremy's face as he sleeps.  
Ryan can't help but wonder how long they've been waiting for him to wake up for.  
He also wonders where Jack is, it's not like her to not be here.  
At that moment Lindsay's eyes flutter open, she blinks tiredly before noticing Ryan watching her, she blushes, seemingly embarrassed to be caught sleeping slumped against Michael as she was.  
Her gaze wanders over to Geoff, the pair seem to communicate with their eyes, but neither actually speak.  
Lindsay then carefully stands, apparently not wanting to wake Michael, and quietly leaves the room, pulling out her phone as she leaves.  
Ryan watches her go, his own gaze uncertain.  
Where is Jack and Ray?  
He had supposed that Ray hadn't wanted to face the fact that Ryan had killed himself again, but something suddenly felt off to Ryan.  
Apparently Geoff not only reads eyes, but he also reads minds, as he answers Ryan's unspoken question, 'Jack and Ray are out on a heist with some of the B-Team.'  
B-Team? Had they been heisting more often lately? Ryan isn't sure, but he's certain they've been doing more than the normal background stuff.  
'Lindsay and I have been talking,' Geoff speaks again, Lindsay? Ryan's sure his face must show confusion.  
'We've decided you'll be having some off time, no heists or jobs or anything.'  
'Lindsay?' Ryan questions, unsure of why a member of the B-Team is having so much say.  
Geoff blinks at him, 'You don't remember? Lindsay was promoted, she's in charge of the crew now.'  
Ryan slowly blinks in return, processing this information.  
'Huh,' is all he says.  
'So you'll accept the time off?' Geoff seems uncertain, as if he didn't really expect Ryan to listen.  
'I don't want to mess anything up for the crew,' admits Ryan.  
He looks over at Michael, 'How long have Michael and Lindsay been dating?'  
' . . .they've been married for a few weeks,' Geoff stands and leaves the room, moments later returning with Ryan's journal.  
Ryan flicks through the pages, eyebrows creasing at all the writing in his own handwriting that he doesn't remember, familiar scrawls from Ray that he's sure he's never read, a messier writing that he doesn't recognize at all, Jack's awkwardly neat writing.  
It's a punch to the gut.  
He had thought he had been remembering things better, but there are so many holes in his memory, so many endlessly empty fields, and numb days.  
Ryan sighs and closes his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

When Ryan sees Ray next, the younger male doesn't say much, simply joins Ryan on the couch, curling against his side.  
A part of Ryan wants to bring up what had happened, but he didn't feel confident that he hadn't already had this talk.  
Everything is so unsure and he hates it.  
'So, first date?' Ray is tilting his head back to gaze up at Ryan.  
Surprise tingles through Ryan, 'you really want to do that?'  
Ray nods, but doesn't speak, his expression is unreadable, and Ryan wonders if maybe this is an expression he should be able to read.  
Should he know Ray better? Is he missing memories and thoughts that would allow him to read this expression?  
'We should go somewhere nice,' declares Ryan.  
'Suits and all?' questions Ray.  
Ryan shrugs, 'Whatever you like, I'm sure you have the legs for a dress.'  
A snort escapes Ray, then he's grinning up at Ryan, looking a whole lot less somber.  
'I'll make the arrangements, m'lady,' Ryan waggles his eyebrows at Ray.  
'Goof,' says Ray fondly, carding his hands through Ryan's hair, Ryan has the dull impression that this is something Ray does often, something they both enjoy.  
Ryan reluctantly frees himself from Ray and stands, stretching on the spot, his spine cracking as he does.  
'Ew,' complains Ray, crinkling his nose at the sound.  
'My bones are ready for the skeleton war,' teases Ryan.  
Gavin enters the room, he's wearing his stupid golden sunglasses, Ryan's sure he's expressed how much he hates those sunglasses, but apparently Gavin loves them.  
Golden boy, Ryan snorts to himself and pads over to the kitchen area, the feel of a diet coke in his hand is a small comfort that makes up for the fact he doesn't remember sitting down on the couch.  
It's like the past as fading as time moves forward, and the idea makes Ryan very uncomfortable.  
He slides his journal across the counter towards himself, sitting the can next to it so he can flick through the pages.  
Ray joins him at the counter while Gavin throws himself on the couch.  
'Anything there that you don't remember?' Ray sounds slightly curious, but also like he's not sure he wants to know.  
Ryan takes a few more moments to flick through the pages, there's mentions of someone called Meg, but he doesn't remember who that is.  
He almost doesn't want to admit to Ray how much of this he doesn't remember.  
Finally he comes across written record of him waking up, learning of Lindsay leading their crew again, he taps it, 'I remember that for sure,' he says.  
'And the other stuff?'  
Ryan shoots Ray a sad look, he doesn't miss how Ray's face drops, how his shoulders droop just a small amount.

  
  
_When he enters the penthouse, Ray is there._   
_He gives Ray the roses, watches how Ray's face lights up._   
_Ray immediately fetches something to put the roses in, and when the roses are safe, he flings himself into Ryan's arms._   
_Ryan wishes everyday could be like this._   
  


  
_He doesn't expect Ray to be there when he enters the penthouse._   
_But Ray is there, he gives Ray the roses, and Ray smiles fondly, he finds a vase to put the roses in._   
_His hand is a tender touch on Ryan's arm, neither of them speak, there's no need to._   
  


  
_Ray frowns at the site of Ryan with roses._   
_This is the second time today Ryan has come home with roses, Ray isn't sure what he's going to do with all the roses._   
_He's sure Ryan doesn't even remember every single time._   
_Ray feels like his heart is breaking as he watches Ryan get more and more distant._   
_The Vagabond is still taking time off._   
_Somehow Ryan never notices the sad looks from Jack or Geoff, or how Gavin is always vague when he talks, unsure of what Ryan remembers at any moment._   
  


They enter the restaurant together.  
Ryan loves the feeling of Ray's hand in his own, it's solid, he's here, this is real.  
He's sure of it.  
'So we finally have our first date,' comments Ryan as they sit.  
Ray nearly drops his smile.  
This is their seventh date, but he doesn't comment.  
He orders the same thing he ordered on their real first date.  
Wonders if at any point during this date, Ryan will remember their first date.  
The food takes an hour to arrive, but Ryan seems unbothered by this, instead he beams happily at Ray.  
Ray feels his stomach in his throat when he glances up at one point to see that Ryan has gone still, eyes drooping as his shoulders slump.  
He isn't sure if Ryan is aware of his surroundings, and a part of him hopes so, he hopes that he and Ryan will get to laugh about this.  
But he knows they wont.  
Ryan is only getting worse and it's tearing Ray apart.  
Ray pays the bill, as he pays the bill, he remembers their first date, how Ryan had been a proper gentleman, had insisted on Ray getting several desserts, how they had laughed and used their spoons to feed each other mouthfuls of this and that.  
They hadn't had to leave partway through the meal, Ryan hadn't dissociated during the meal, Ryan had stayed firmly in the present.  
Ray feels a tear run down his cheek, but he brushes it aside and stands, ready to guide Ryan to his car parked outside.  
He's not sure he can take this for much longer.  
  


  
_Ryan looks through his journal, he writes more down._   
_He tries so hard to hold onto his thoughts, but no matter what, they slip through his fingers._   
_He should be fine._   
_He has to be fine._   
_Everything is good right now, and he's losing it all._   
_There's no trauma, not anymore._   
_No more hurtful exes, no more hateful parents._   
_He's safe, Ryan tries to convince himself of this, but the message doesn't sink in._   
_And he can feel himself becoming distant._   
_The slow decline that starts with his hands._   
_He tries to squeeze his hands, but they're not his hands._   
_He doesn't have hands._   
_Maybe he never did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating this so I can avoid my book.  
> I've been working on finally getting a book I've been writing for years finished.  
> But holy yike.  
> Writing is work, and I MIGHT get said book finished next year, but probably not, lmao.


	9. Chapter 9

Ray decides to leave.  
He doesn't talk to anyone in the crew about it.  
Not even Ryan.  
He leaves a message in Ryan's journal, hopes the male will see it, fears the male will forget it.  
It takes Ray an hour to dig up his most important items as scattered as they are throughout the penthouse.  
His pink sniper rifle is already packed up, ready for a heist.  
He doesn't worry that the crew will need them, anything he ever did, he knows Jeremy can handle.  
A tear almost escapes his eye as he leaves the penthouse for the last time.  
His heart feels broken.  
But it's nothing new, his heart has slowly been breaking for months.  
And perhaps this is just the final break.  
Jack will probably see the message before anyone else, no one will follow him at least.

He sighs, a new city he goes.

 

 

 

'Where's Ryan?' wonders Jack, glancing around.

She had spent the last half hour cleaning up the penthouse, none of the others ever cleaned up after themselves, and she was getting frustrated with it.

Michael shrugs from where he's thrown himself on the couch, beer in hand.

'Haven't seen him leave his room all morning,' reports Gavin.

Jack's shoulders slump just a little, she glances over at where Ryan's journal sits, sighs but picks it up all the same.

'Something wrong, Jack?' asks Michael, looking concerned.

Her grip tightens on the journal, but all the same she talks, 'Ray left us,' is all she says, not looking at either of the lads.

Gavin straightens up, blinks at Jack, 'He left?' he sounds confused, like he doesn't quite believe it.

Jack nods, 'He breifly explains it in here,' she holds up the journal slightly higher, 'He decided Ryan's condition was too hard for him to deal with.'

Anger flashes across Gavin's face, an emotion none of them see on Gavin very often, then Gavin's sliding his golden sunglasses on and leaving the room.

There's a moment of silence, then Michael offers Jack a sympathetic look and follows after Gavin.

Jack sighs and goes to Ryan's bedroom, tapping on the door with her knuckles.

'Come on,' comes Ryan's voice, he sounds normal enough.

Jack enters the room, glancing around breifly before her gaze settles on Ryan, he's sitting at his desk, twirling a knife in one hand idly.

She stops for a moment to appreciate how good he is at that, she remembers how when she first met, Ryan could barely do that, had a few accidents with different knives.

'What's up?' asks Ryan, giving the knife a final twirl before releasing it, it hits the wall with a dull thunk, stays there.

Jack glances at the knife, feeling slightly glad that Ryan no longer had the knife in his hands, 'Ray left you a note,' she offers him the journal.

Confusion crosses Ryan's face for a moment.

He accepts the journal, apparently figuring out whatever he was confused about, he takes a few minutes to breifly read over a few entries.

He reaches Ray's final entry, his eyes darken as he reads it, shoulders slumped, he nods at Jack.

'Will you be okay?' asks Jack, concern evident in her voice.

Ryan nods slowly, already he looks kind of distant, Jack moves over and lightly tugs the male to his feet, leading him into the kitchen.

Neither of them say anything as Jack moves around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for them both.

If anything, it's like Ryan isn't aware he's there.

Gavin returns, Michael close behind him.

'Rye-bread!' exclaims Gavin, throwing himself at Ryan.

Ryan barely reacts, but Gavin settles himself onto Ryan's lap all the same, Jack doesn't seem to think this is a good idea.

'Rye,' Gavin attempts to get Ryan's attention, waving his hand in front of the others face.

Gavin squirms on the spot, 'Ryan, you're real,' he insits to the male.

Michael sighs and takes a seat at the bench to speak to Jack, 'I guess he didn't take it too well.'

'You want breakfast?' offers Jack, she looks sad, but determined for the day to go forward anyway.

The front door swings open as Geoff enters the place, looking chipper.

'Sure,' Michael replies to Jack, straightening up at Geoff's entrance.

'How's it going?' asks Geoff, sliding into one of the seats, he ignores Gavin's attempts to get Ryan's attention entirely.

Jack and Michael exchange a look, but it's Jack who replies, 'Ray left.'

'Left?' questions Geoff, 'To get junk food?'

'No, left as in left, he's gone, Geoff,' says Jack, she sits a plate in front of Michael first, unsure if Ryan would eat in his current state.

Somehow Gavin has gotten a little of Ryan's attention, as now Ryan watches Gavin, and is apparently listening as Gavin babbles on about something.

Jack eyes the pair but puts a plate in front of them all the same, 'you want food, Geoff?'

'Nah, I ate with Griffon,' answers Geoff off-handedly.

Ryan dislikes how floaty he feels, he's not entirely sure that any of this is real, like Gavin keeps insisting.

Babbling for a bit, then randomly finishing a sentence with, 'We're real, Ryan, okay?' not continuing until Ryan nods.

He wishes he could say it's comforting, but he's not feeling much of anything.

Gavin apparently comes to the end of whatever story he was telling, he pats Ryan's cheek, 'food?' he offers, indicating the plate on the bench.

In response, Ryan only blinks, Gavin shrugs and hops off the other males lap, he forces a fork into Ryan's hand, gestures to the plate again.

There's a few moments of quiet, then Ryan forces himself to move, to feed himself.

'We shouldn't go after him,' is what Geoff decides after talking to Jack and Michael for a few minutes.

Jack hesitates, 'What if Ryan needs him?'

'Ryan will have to do without Ray,' Geoff sighs, 'If Ray doesn't want to be here, we can't force him.'

'I don't want him here if we have to force him,' declares Gavin, Ryan's gaze flickers to the Brit momentarily.

Geoff apparently agrees.

 

 

 

'None of this is real,' Ryan's mind whispers to him.

He tries to ignore this, continue writing.

His hand feels like it's trembling, but he can see his handwriting, and it's still tidy.

Things have to be real if he can feel his hand, but his mind continues to insist otherwise.

Ryan feels himself leave the room, leave the building.

Walking down the street.

Everything's distant, and he doesn't care if he knocks someone over.

He enters a store, he's holding a gun? Why?  
Ryan decides this isn't worth questioning, watches himself threaten the man behind the counter.

He doesn't feel the gun in his hands now, sees it.

Maybe that isn't him anyway, it could be the fake Ryan.

The man at the counter doesn't seem surprised at being held at gun point, perhaps he's used to this.

In a City like Los Santos, it isn't surprising.

The fake Ryan leaves the shop, apparently calm, making his way back to the penthouse.

A fake Gavin shows up and stops him before he makes it there, fake Gavin looks worried.

Ryan wants to tell him not to worry, you don't need to worry about anything if you're not real.

The two fake people turn back towards the store, but don't go into it, they pass it, keep walking, disappear into the crowd.

What's it like to be real?

 

 

 

_He hates the sound of glass shattering._

_It always makes him want to duck, cringe away, anything to be far away._

_A part of him always wonders if it matters, if getting hurt matters._

_He can always just die and everything's fine again._

_The glass on the ground glistens, it's wet with water._

_Her scrowl is focused on him, but he doesn't speak, instead he crouches, silently scoops up the glass, waits for the blow that's surely about to come._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had this chapter written eight hours ago, but my laptop decided it didn't want to update for whatever reason.  
> But here it is now, so there's that.  
> I finished writing the final part of 'And' last night, besides the point that I still need to write the chapters between chapter nine and the final chapter.  
> I was looking back at chapter one, and I thought, 'Wow, the quality of this has gone down since the beginning,' so no doubt I'll rewrite the final chapter a few times, make it feel less cluttered, by time I actually post it.  
> I think I just need to put more thought into each chapter, I have the entire plot done, it's just writing each chapter so they fit with each other and flow well that I need to work on.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read the final chapter I had written for this???  
> And I want to post it now???  
> But it doesn't make any sense without the stuff without it so . . . .

_There's an older male, he's wearing a suit despite the blazing heat._   
_It's not even a nice suit, and they aren't anywhere special._   
_Ryan thinks the suit might have been nice at some point, but now it's full of patches that don't match the original colour._   
_The male himself looks just as messy, his mustache is ridiculous, and his face is almost sunken in, fingers stained._   
_Ryan doubts he knows this man, doesn't make a sound as a car pulls up, people with masks leap out, the older males eyes are wide as he looks to Ryan, is pulled away._   
_For a moment, as he watches the car speed off with the struggling man, Ryan considers waving._

 

  
He's not sure where he is.  
It's cold, undoubtedly so.  
Why doesn't he have a jacket? Rings decorate his hands, small fake skulls staring up at him, expensive.  
Expensive enough that Ryan is sure he could have afforded a jacket.  
Or maybe the cold weather is unexpected, he tilts his head back, ignoring the cold brush of snow against the skin of his face.  
His t-shirt is loose, ripped, dirty, like he's been wearing it a while.  
Ryan blinks up at the sky, looks down, shoves his hands into his pockets, trudges down the street.  
  
  
  
Has he ever existed without this screaming in his ears?  
He doubts it. It has to have always been present.  
How does one live without the screaming-is it possible to exist without it.  
His nails are digging into his palms, there's blood, red and wet on his skin, and there's blood, dry and flaking on his wrists.  
There are eyes on him, but it doesn't matter.  
A stranger in a patched jacket, watching because what's better entertainment than a broken man on the street?  
Ryan laughs out loud, loosening his fists, he laughs again, not because anything is funny, nothings funny, the world is too bleak for humour, he laughs because he can.  
The stranger doesn't react, continues to stare blankly.  
'Better than TV,' giggles Ryan, he wants to tear his own throat out with his bare hands.  
His hands burn as if they agree, Ryan staggers, moves.  
There must be somewhere to go, has he ever had friends? People who didn't hear this screaming?  
He wants whoever is screaming in his head to be silent, he tells the screaming voice that, he screams it back at it, ignores how people try to avoid being too close to him.  
It's cold. Where's his jacket?  
  
  
  
It must have been weeks.  
Jack continues to scan the streets, she isn't sure where Geoff is, has no idea where Ryan is.  
Her heart flutters with fear, there's a lump in her throat but she can't cry yet, not out here on the street.  
There's no mentions in Ryan's journal of leaving.  
He didn't plan to go, and she knows Geoff didn't plan to, either.  
Jack's voice is hoarse, she must have called for them for hours.  
Neither surface.  
She feels a warm hand in her own, Gavin is the one to stay by her side, his face doesn't show it, but Jack is sure he's just as scared as she is.  
Her pocket vibrates, the phone's ringtone coming to life a moment later.  
Hope surges through her, hope that Geoff is back, or that they've found Ryan.  
There's an undercurrent of fear, they could be dead, they could be dead right now, and Jack could be left wondering forever where they went.  
She knows they're immortal and that death is impossible. But she can't help but fear.  
Once Jack heard a legend, of a man trapped in the sea for hundreds of years, drowning and drowning, screaming for help and never being heard, she can't imagine how much that would hurt, and how it would eventually deaden anyone's feelings.  
Jack answers the phone.  
It's Michael, 'We've been delivered a note, Geoff was kidnapped.'  
Jack's breath escapes her all at once, relief, but also fear fulls her, she knows Geoff can live through being kidnapped, they've always come back from this.  
'Anything about Ryan?'  
Michael hesitates, the fact he doesn't answer is enough, and Jack can't help the tears that escape her,


	11. Chapter 11

_'I thought I was meant to be the messed up one.'_  
 _The voice is surprising, and Ryan starts, tilting his head back to look at Ray, who is perched on the couch arm while Ryan himself sits on the floor._  
 _It was obviously Ray who spoke._  
 _Ryan notes there's blood on his jeans, he isn't entirely sure why it's there._  
 _'You don't remember it,' notes Ray._  
  
He thinks about the disheveled man in the suit a lot.  
He feels like he should know him, perhaps he should have been stirred into action, prevented the man from being taken.  
It started snowing within the last few days, he feels cold all the time.  
Why doesn't he have a jacket?  
Did he used to have a jacket?  
He sees a small male in a purple hoodie up ahead, he feels a glimmer of something, perhaps comfort, maybe he knows the male.  
Ryan doesn't call out to him, he feels the slight urge to.  
He remains silent.  
Wanders back to his alley, the one he has been staying in.  
The other homeless seem to have accepted his company, they share their food with him on the nights he cannot get it for himself on.  
People in this city do not seem to want to give up their change.  
In turn, Ryan is sure to share any extra food he has.  
It feels nice, like a small community.  
None of them comment when Ryan wakes up screaming, or when he wakes up sobbing, they ignore all the odd things he does, doesn't question it when he talks to himself, or dissociates.

 

 

_His broken doll body always seems to shatter._   
_Regardless of how much he tries, the wind doesn't take his fake body up, his fake body falls, with his mind drifting behind._   
_His body breaks on the ground far below and through the fog of sound around his mind, there are screams, but it's all distant, and none of it is real so it doesn't matter._   
_Geoff always cradles Ryan's body close, waits for bones to crack back into place, and then Ryan always watches as fake Ryan awakes, as fake Ryan laughs it off, explains he doesn't know what he was thinking._   
_'Geoff,' Ryan wants to say, 'You're talking to the fake,' but he can't, he's outside looking in._   
_This has never happened has it? He's sure if it. He's always been real up until now._   
_'I don't understand you, bud,' Geoff sighs, claps fake Ryan on the shoulder._   
_It's fine to not be real._   
_Of course it's fine._

 

 

Geoff sleeps for several long days in a row when they get him back.  
Jack doesn't hesitate to hover, she asks him how he is whenever he's conscious enough to listen.  
When he's finally awake for a solid amount of time, the first thing he says is, 'Where's Ryan?' bitterness seeps into his voice.  
'He went missing,' Jeremy's voice is quiet, almost ashamed, through he's not entirely sure why he should feel ashamed.  
'Missing,' Geoff repeats the word, turns his gaze over Lindsay, 'Any word on where he might be?'  
Lindsay shakes her head, 'Jack has been out looking most often, she hasn't seen any sign of him.'  
'Is something wrong?' asks Jack, leaning forward, eyes alight with curiosity.  
'He was there when I was taken,' growls Geoff, 'stood there with that stupid look in his eyes and watched.'  
Lindsay takes a long deep breath, rests her hand on Geoff's shoulder for a moment, 'We'll find him,' she promises.  
Geoff immediately slips out of his bed, ignoring how Jack and Lindsay carefully avert their gaze, he grabs his jacket as he walks towards the door, 'I'm going to go out and look.'  
In an instant, Jack is on her feet, following after Geoff, 'Are you sure that's a good idea? You should rest some more.'  
'I'm going to find that bastard,' is all Geoff says in return.

 

 

His stomach aches with emptiness.  
Their group has been struggling for the last few days.  
He watches as Mica repeatedly refills her water bottle, her gaze troubled as she approaches each person who passes by, trying to get even one coin.  
His chest aches with guilt, he had never promised it but he felt he owed it to these people to look after them.  
'Do you have a spare coin?' his voice is low and raspy, he hasn't been drinking water as often as Mica has, in fact, he can feel her gaze on his back now.  
A startled gaze is turned towards him, familiar eyes stare straight into his.  
'Ryan?' the woman whispers, she looks startled.  
'Do I know you?' responds Ryan, she feels familiar, but he can't quite place who she is.  
Mica is at his side within moments, she's short, but the way she glares up at this stranger makes her seem miles taller.  
The woman hesitates, gaze sliding to Mica for a moment, 'You look hungry, I can get you a bite to eat, and we can talk.'  
Ryan isn't sure how to respond, he glances to Mica, but she seems just as uncertain, her hand rests lightly on Ryan's arm, she seems unwilling to leave his side.  
Mica is younger than Ryan, but she had been homeless for a lot longer, Ryan trusted her wisdom.  
'Your friend can come, too,' adds the woman, seeing how Ryan glances to Mica.  
This seems to lower Mica's guard just the slightest bit, the pair follow after the woman, they enter a small fast food place.  
Mica doesn't hesitate to order as much food as she can, and at their table, she shoves a majority of it into one of the paper bags and stores it in her backpack.  
'I'm Jack,' the woman finally introduces herself, she seems slightly taken aback by Mica's presence, 'We were part of a crew together.'  
Ryan pauses in shoveling food into his mouth, looks back at her, 'What happened?'  
'I'm not sure,' Jack confesses, 'One day you just vanished, I was looking for you this whole time, everyone wants you to come home.'  
'Can Mica come with me?' asks Ryan abruptly, he can't leave her on the street, he can't leave her at all, not when she's his responsibility now.  
Jack glances from Ryan to Mica and back again, 'Are you two . . .involved?'  
Mica lets out a bark of laughter, finally including herself in the conversation, 'Of course not, Ry is like a brother to me.'  
'Then, I'm sure we could find a place for her in the crew,' Jack speaks carefully, 'You'll have to speak to Geoff and Lindsay, Geoff is rather  . . . looking forward to speaking to you.' 


	12. Chapter 12

 

He's startled.  
As he enters the building, his mind stirs, provides missing information.  
Quietly provides names as he's hugged.  
The only person he hasn't seen is Geoff.  
They walk up the stairs as a group, Mica stays glued firmly to his side, and Gavin is on his other side, firmly holding Ryan's hand. He seems unwilling to let go, and Ryan's chest aches.  
Michael is at his heels, and Ryan can't feel anything but safe.  
 _Family_ , he thinks to himself.  
It feels like coming home, and Ryan isn't sure what to think about that.  
There's roses in a vase on the coffee table, roses on the small table by the front door.  
Everywhere he looks, red roses.  
A large book is pressed into his hands, and Ryan stares down at it uncertainly.  
'Your journal,' clarifies Jack, she looks concerned.  
Does she always look so concerned?  
Ryan takes a deep breath, sits down, trying to be quiet in his every movement, Mica looks uncomfortable, but intrigued, she sits close to him.  
He likes the feeling of pages under his hands.  
All kinds of different handwriting is the first thing he notices, lots of people have been writing in this, and vague memories of that rise to the surface of his mind.  
He pauses, looks up, 'Where's Geoff?'  
'Oh,' goes Jack, surprised, she glances at the others in the room, 'We thought it'd be better if you got settled before seeing him.'  
He isn't sure he understands, but Ryan nods anyway, Mica is intently reading the page the journal is open to.  
Her gaze flickers up to Ryan, then down again, 'Whoa,' she remarks, 'I can't believe I was living with _the_ Vagabond this whole time.'  
'I can't believe I _was_ the Vagabond,' replies Ryan, he and Mica stare blankly at each other for a moment, then they're both laughing.  
Jack can't help but smile, then she hears the front door, immediately a trace of anxiety is present in her gaze, and she turns to face Geoff, who has frozen at the sight of Ryan.  
For a moment Geoff looks furious, he opens his mouth, stares, closes his mouth.  
And all tension melts from Geoff's shoulders, he strides towards Ryan, his steps determined, but the closer he gets, the more anger melts from his expression.  
He's reaching forward and pulling Ryan to his feet in an instant, hugging the male close, 'Thank fuck you're okay, you loser,' whispers Geoff, face buried in Ryan's shoulder.  
Ryan seems startled for a moment, then his arms are raising to wrap around the other male, 'I'm sorry,' is all he says.  
Geoff pulls back, pats Ryan's cheek with one heavily tattooed hand, 'We're square, Ryan, we're square.'  
Next, Geoff's gaze slides to Mica, who hasn't moved, 'Whose this?' he asks, Mica seems to be frozen.  
'Mica, I thought she could join the B team,' Ryan speaks up for her, capturing Geoff's gaze again.  
Geoff nods, 'She's in, I trust your judgement,' he doesn't bother turning to Lindsay to make sure she agrees, merely releases Ryan and holds out a hand for Mica to shake.  
  
  
  
 _'Ryan!' a feminine voice cries out._  
 _Ryan feels pain, a weight slamming into his side._  
 _He feels dazed for a moment as he flies through the air, crumples to the ground like a used tissue._  
 _He's literally quite unsure of what's hit him._  
 _There are hands on him, panicked voices._  
 _He manages to blink the confusion away, smiles rather confusedly up at Mica, the fear in her eyes is very real, and Ryan feels sorrow flood his chest._  
 _'I'm sorry,' says Ryan rather unhelpfully._  
 _Mica's concerned look drops into a scowl, 'you goof.'_  
  
  
  
The days feel like they're slipping through his grasp.  
He sees Mica often, she's enjoying herself, the crew has set her up with somewhere to stay, and her joy at being off the streets is very obvious.  
She fits in well.  
Ryan can't help but be quiet, everything is familiar and yet so foreign to him.  
Jack joins him by the window, 'Why'd you leave us?' her voice is soft, her hand rests gently on Ryan's arm, forcing him to remain still.  
Sometimes Ryan gets trapped in thoughts of how easy it is to kill.  
'I'm not sure,' confesses Ryan, 'I think perhaps I felt like I was hindering the crew.'  
'You weren't,' Jack assures him, 'and even if you were, you're family, we want you here.'  
Ryan tries to feel reassured by this, tries to act like it matters, but he can't bring himself to say anything in response.  
He turns his gaze back to the window, 'I'll do better,' he tells her, 'I'll be useful.'  
A look of pain flashes across Jack's face, her hand feels heavy on Ryan's arm, 'you don't need to be useful,' she tells him.  
'Yes, I do.'  
  
  
  
He acts like he's improving.  
Like thinks are okay.  
They aren't okay, and Ryan so often feels breathless.  
What's the difference between standing at the edge of the world, and standing on the roof of a ten story building?  
There is no difference when you're falling.  
And Ryan spends so often falling, he isn't sure when the falling began, or where he was to start with.  
He hates the feeling of calm, and how it so often represents all the things he's lacking.  
He's in a bank.  
He's in the penthouse.  
He's in a grocery store.  
There's a gun in his hand, no there's a diet coke in his hand, no there's a limp mask in his grasp, and he doesn't know where it all began.  
Ryan quite often hears screaming ringing in his ears.  
It's frustrating.  
  
  
  
'Ryan!' the voice barks in his ear, and Ryan blinks.  
How long as he been here?  
'Jack,' he responds easily enough, ignoring hos he doesn't know why he's holding a gun.  
'Where are you?'  
So the voice isn't in his head, he's wearing an earpiece, Ryan touches it lightly, looks around, reports to Jack where he is, tries to sound certain.  
Jack's voice in response isn't as certain, she quickly directs him into position. The heist starts with a bang, he can hear Micheal's wild laughter.  
He follows Jack's lead, feels the thrill of excitement through his very bones.  
He was made for this.  
Always pushing forward, Ryan's ready for anything.  
The come down is the hardest.  
The heist ends, and Ryan feels himself slipping, he staggers through the front door of the safe house, his heart feels heavy and he's somewhat grateful to feel.  
Jack is there, wrapping an arm around Ryan, leading him towards a bed to crash in.  
She talks to him, but the words don't mean anything, Ryan smiles anyway, acts like he understands her.  
He doesn't.


	13. Chapter 13

Ryan takes himself to a hospital.  
It's one for the mentally ill, set up to keep people for a very long time.  
He's surprised at how quickly he can get false papers, how quickly they accept him.  
He explains to several of the nurses what he is, his immortality.  
He's unsure he'll remember who he is forever.  
Be able to cover his own secret.  
They take him to a room, declare it as his.  
He's given drugs, given strict guidelines, trying to give him something he can cling to.  
He wonders how much longer he'll be himself for.  
'James,' a voice urges.  
Ryan blinks, tries to pay attention, the nurse, Alice, seems pleased to have even some of his attention.  
'It's time to go to the kitchen, James, food,' she says, a hand on his arm.  
'Food,' echoes Ryan, he follows her from the room, trying to piece together his day as he walks.  
How long has he been here for?  
Alice glances at him when he doesn't move from the kitchen doorway.  
'You've been here for three months,' she tells him, 'Come have something to eat.'  
'Where's my journal?' Ryan does as told.  
The female's expression falters for a moment, 'You threw it in the fireplace.'  
He tries to remember this, finds he can't.  
His shoulders slump and he nods, unable to form a verbal response.

 

A woman visits.  
James feels confusion.  
She calls him Ryan, and acts like she knows him.  
'The crew isn't the same without you, Ryan,' the woman says, she looks sad, and James almost wishes he knew her.  
She must have him mistaken as someone else, he doesn't speak up and tell her.  
'Ray refuses to talk to us, it's like he thinks it's our fault,' explains Jack.  
What could possibly be at the fault of this kind woman? ponders James, his journal sits under his hand, and he idly strokes it as she speaks, the motion draws her gaze to it for just a moment.  
'That isn't your old journal,' she notes.  
James blinks, 'I guess the old one got filled up.'  
She gives him an odd look, stands and leaves, James faintly wonders where she's going, decides it probably doesn't matter.  
She's back after just five minutes, James hasn't moved, is still sitting there, stroking his journal.  
'You don't remember me, do you?' she asks.  
James shakes his head, 'sorry.'  
Her expression drops, and she touches his shoulder for just a moment, 'I was Jack, I'm sorry for bothering you, James, I wish you the best.'  
She leaves.  
James opens his journal, flicks through the pages, writes a short mention of Jack, strange name for a woman, he notes to himself.  
She had mentioned Ray, and as James reads his journal, he sees mentions of Ray.  
He ponders if it's the same Ray, notes this observation all the same.  
Alice enters the room and James is momentarily confused, he has just read a note saying she is a young woman.  
'How long have I been here?' he asks her, voice shaky.  
'Seventy-three years,' she answers without hesitation, as if this is something he asks all the time, she smiles at him, notices his journal and sits next to him, willing to work through anything he's missing.  
James wonders if he's left a whole other life behind.

_  
  
A male peers through glasses at him.  
_ _This is familiar even if he doesn't remember the males name.  
_ _They sit perched on a building, the male has a sniper rifle, has set it up so it's ready.  
_ _James turns, looks at the building the male had been focused on.  
_ _'You didn't have to come with me,' says the male, 'And also, please do not jump off that building.'  
_ _James feels himself blink at the male, 'Why would I do that?' that's his voice speaking.  
_ _The male sighs, long and loud, he doesn't say anything further, puts his full attention into the rifle.  
_ _It's bright pink, notes James._

 

'James!' exclaims a voice, then a short youth is entering the room, he looks enthused to see James, and James can't help but grin back.  
Immediately the youth halts, looks vaguely amused, but he gives James a high five all the same.  
'How's it blazin?' requests the youth.  
This is Ray, thinks James to himself, glancing down at his journal, forcing the memories to the front of his mind. Ray who visits one a week, every weekend.  
He flips through the pages of his journal, there's something he wanted to mention to Ray.  
Ray silently comes over to sit by James, watching.  
'There's something I forgot,' James tells him, 'Something I was going to tell you.'  
'Take your time, man,' murmurs Ray, he looks and sounds calm, he's used to this.  
James stops on one page, 'A woman visited me, she seemed sad about someone called Ray, I thought she might have meant you, her name was Jack and she called me Ryan.'  
'Jack,' repeats Ray, he sighs and stands, moving over to one of the windows.  
'I feel like I might have left an entire life behind,' confesses Ryan.  
Ray shakes his head, 'It doesn't matter anymore.'  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . it's done?  
>  I hope you enjoyed, because I really enjoyed writing this, and I'm rather astounded to actually be finished with something.


End file.
